F4MM Ch. 07

I went out to a concert, a rock band on a revival tour. I needed something to take my mind off the bisexual threesomes that I was obsessing about.

While waiting in line to enter, I started a conversation with a woman in front of me. I told her I was out trying to relive some memories, she was too. She was by herself.

I guessed she was about as old as me. Dressed up in full regalia, she had a torn t-shirt from a previous concert tour, spiked hair, high heel boots and fingerless gloves.

She was rocking the obligatory torn fishnet stockings. I loved how her legs made an ass out of themselves.

She tugged down a tight leather miniskirt. She was not dressing her age.

She had olive skin, a pretty face, a nice smile. Black eye shadow framed bedroom eyes.

My hopes dropped seeing a ring on her finger, but only a little.

We had a nice conversation, there was a lot in common. She had seen this band many times in the old days. Our memories connected on a concert that we had both gone to.

"Meet me afterwards! I'll be down by the stage exit!" she yelled over the warmup music on the PA system.

The crowd roared with each song from the old days. One song reminded me of a back seat grope session in high school. Another reminded me of dorm room anatomy studies.

The crowd audibly groaned when the lead singer yelled out, "Here's one from our new album!"

The band had cultivated a mystery about their sexual orientation, typical for their time. I wondered to myself about the origin of my bisexual feelings.

Cell phones replaced lighters as everyone chanted for one after another encore. I picked cotton from my ears as the last power chord sustained.

After the concert I wandered down to the exit. I didn't need to see the band, maybe she wanted an autograph. A number of fans clustered around, women and men. I managed to spot her through a sea of spiked hair.

Fellow rockers jostled for position, a roadie wrestled them away from the door. I grabbed her arm. A smile told me she didn't mind.

A manager type opened the door. Everyone started yelling and raising their hands, including her. Her breast brushed against me as she bounced trying to get his attention. A smile told her I didn't mind.

The manager scanned the crowd. He pointed to her, two fingers. He wanted both of us.

She shrieked out with joy, "Let's Go!"

I hesitated.

I remembered hearing about bands picking out groupies at each tour stop. I had fantasized about being a rock star, with after-concert orgies every night. Sex and drugs and rock and roll.

"Come on!" she hollered, tugging my arm. "Once in a lifetime!"

That got me.

The manager led us through some hallways under the arena to what I think they call a 'Green Room.' I looked around.

Bowls of coke? No.

Bowls of M